"For we which now behold these present days
have eyes to wonder, but lack tongues to praise."
In Which The Autumn Provides Flight and Fun
The changing of the seasons blazed a trail across the island, and Hiccup was more aware of it than he had ever been before. Autumn first burned the grasses, dried them gold and brought them to seed that they could be spread by mice and birds and the eager, cooling wind. Small creatures of the woods grew bold as they busied themselves burrowing and gathering. It seemed the offended chatter of squirrels never ceased.
Strutting seabirds gathered to carpet the sandy beaches. Their long winged, wandering brethren gusted silently by. Smaller twittering birds rolled through the treetops and filled the mountains with song and the flash of wings. Others rose to whirl in great flocks that churned the air and moved as a single living mass when pressed by a falcon or a playful Toothless. The birds were ready to take their yearly leave.
The dragons never truly left. They were suppressed by the weather and attacked the village less in the harsh months, but did not retreat to the south. Yet even the scaled beasts seemed caught up in the season. They moved in larger groups, called to each other at a distance with roars and shrieks. Elusive breeds became more common. Hiccup got his first close encounter with a Zippleback when he found one that fall, sprawled in the shallows of an inlet as it scooped up double mouthfuls of schooling baitfish and let the seawater drain through sieve-like teeth. Other sightings he struggled to place from fireside stories and vague recollections of the, he now realized, woefully simplistic Book of Dragons. When an enormous shadow dipped beneath the clouds, he could only guess it was a Timberjack. Perhaps that one was on its way to greener forests.
In spite of the mild weather, the season of Winter, sly and dangerous as a Fury in the darkness, edged a foot in the door early as it was want to do on Berk. Not demanding, not yet. The chill of night was only a whispered promise. But, in the first light of day, needles and golden birch leaves lay heavy, gilded with glittering frost.
And yet Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III felt wonderful.
It wasn't that he was unaware of the approaching freeze. Far from it. It still unnerved him, flipped his stomach if he dwelled on it, but he worked to prepare. Gone were his fears that Toothless would grow out of him, and his meandering march north was never monotonous.
He snacked on late season berries, ate bulbs he was sure weren't poisonous, and gathered tubers from the water plants at the stream banks. He carved and tied different sized fish hooks of wood and bone to replace the ones he lost and set long lines out in the shallows to catch flatfish with hooks made of thorns. There were limpets to be popped from the rocks, rolled dragon bones to be pulled from the surf and fashioned onto tools, scales to collect, squirrels to race for the island's meager crop of nuts, and a certain fledgling Nightfury to chase and be chased by.
Every day the sun tracked lower in the sky, but the slant lent the light a rich golden cast. The air was cool enough to work in comfortably, to make the sunlight feel pleasant, but warm enough that he didn't shiver for lack of heavier cloths. At dusk he would lay down his satchel. A small fire was enough to cook fish, maybe a rabbit or grouse procured by Toothless, stuffed with wild herbs and sea salt boiled off in a mussel shell. If he was lucky he'd roast the nuts he'd gathered that day and enjoy an uncommon treat. Then, as darkness fell and the temperature dropped, he'd curl up with the living heater that was Toothless, who was large enough to wrap around the wiry Viking and cover him with one wing. Every night he fell asleep to the sound of sleepy dragon purrs.
In that beautiful, dying season, all was well.
The northernmost tip of the island appeared unexpectedly.
Hiccup knew he had to be getting close. Sure he'd been taken his time, more and more time as it went on, and traveled frequently frustrating terrain, but the island wasn't that big. Still, he expected to see it coming. Toothless must have, but he hadn't. On an afternoon like any other he struggled up a rocky slope he was too stubborn to circumnavigate and at the top was met with-
Ocean.
Hiccup had been in boats, but never out on the open sea. It was more ocean- more horizon- than he'd ever seen in his life. When he stepped to the edge of the cliff the coasts slanted away behind him- he couldn't even see them out of the corners of his eyes. He was at the peak of the island. The world lay before him, blue on blue separated only by haze. Wind unbroken by terrain was cool against his cheeks, it tugged at his clothes and teased through unkempt hair.
The sight of such openness was thrilling enough, but Toothless chose that moment to wing by. He sailed over Hiccup's shoulder with a whisper of wind and glided into the vastness, perfectly at home. The Viking watched his dark form shape the wind and rise with nary a wingbeat, stark against the blue. He stood frozen to the spot- green eyes wide, jaw slack, throat inexplicably tight.
In that moment, to say he was at a loss for words would have been a criminal understatement.
It took another few minutes and a joyous flyby from a corkscrewing Toothless to get Hiccup moving. But, even as he put his back to the ocean and trotted over the rocks to shore, he could not keep the grin from his face.
"It's settled then!" He called to Toothless, who was far out of earshot. "We'll make our winter camp here!"
The next few days were spent scouring and mapping the area. Hiccup hunted down nearby streams and springs, made note of resources, and considered different sites for his camp. A cave at the base of a cliff? Conveniently sized and accessible, but too close to the surf. A hollow amid the turned up roots of a long fallen tree? Too exposed to the elements. A dip in the ground caught his attention, and he began to wonder how he could put some sort of a roof over it before he realized that it was likely a sinkhole. Not exactly the best place to sleep.
Just inside the tree line, above a grassy slope, he found a massive old tree with a rotten center. The tree was still alive and growing, but was filled with dry, punky wood. It was easily the best site he'd found, and he was tempted to hollow the dead wood out, to make his shelter inside the living trunk, but dismissed the thought with a sigh on thinking of Toothless. Not that the dragon would burn it down- no, while he loved a bed of warm coals he was careful with his fire and the green wood would be difficult to burn- but with the two of them the hollow would be a tight squeeze. Toothless's body was roughly the size of a pony's, though his short legs didn't bring his head up to Hiccup's waist. Plus wings and a long, finned tail? It would be cramped enough, not even counting how much the dragon would grow over the winter months…
It was on his defeated march down the slope that he discovered the weathered wreck of a Viking longboat. The fraction of the hull he could see curved from the ground like the ribs of beached whales curved from the sand. It would need some work, but it was perfect.
Glimpses of brown stoats newly mottled with their white winter coats reminded him of his time limit as much as the ominously chilling wind. So he built a fishing weir. It was a funnel made of tied and woven branches that would trap fish when baited and set in a deep part of a stream. With Toothless's food taken so care of, he busied himself with preparations for the dreaded season. With a ground-down dragon scapula he dug out the overturned boat to make a space big enough for himself and his dragon. He waterproofed and covered the hull over with sod, and, after a particularly gusty storm, made an evergreen branch-thatched 'door' to cover the entrance he'd left just big enough for Toothless to walk through. He dug shelves and pits into the earthen walls to hold his gear and store his gathered food. In the 'rafters' he strung up eatable plants to dry.
It was a fine shelter and Hiccup was more than a little proud of it, even if the inside was a dim for his taste. It annoyed him, but it was the thought of warmth that drove him to find a solution. After all, Toothless would keep him warm while he slept, but what if he needed to warm up when Toothless was out flying? He'd collected enough uncharred rabbit skins to line his boots and make a vest, but a coat or a blanket wasn't in the offing. Though his longboat lair felt like a cave to him, it would be as cold as the outside air.
The solution was simple: he would need a fireplace. And a chimney.
The first was easy enough- he dug out a hollow for a fire. But he needed something inflammable to keep the tunnel he dug for the chimney from collapsing.
Which is how he found himself hauling clay up from the coast in his old pack. He didn't need much, but clay was heavy and he could have sworn Toothless was laughing at his efforts. So Hiccup did not feel at all bad when he fell onto the dragon in exaggerated exhaustion and insisted he was altogether too tired to get up. He was careful were he landed as the hard black ridges that sprouted from Toothless's middle back were more prominent than ever, but his shoulders and the base of his wings were still safe. Hiccup clung there laughing, arms around the dragon's thick neck, as Toothless grumbled, squirmed and bucked and tried to shake him off.
"Ha! Is that all you've got you…" He trailed off as Toothless went still.
The dragon's ear-lobes flopped back. Hiccup didn't need to see the rest of his expression; he knew well enough when he was in trouble.
"Uh wah- what are you thinking abo- GAH-"
Toothless launched himself into a dead run. Hiccup yelped and held on for dear life as the Fury's bounding gait threatened to jar him loose. Tree trunks flashed by, but the dragon cleared the forest in moments and leapt across the tumbled rocks closer to the coast. His jumps got longer and longer until he hit the last boulder like a coiled up spring and vaulted from its peak. The Viking had just enough time to realize he was in the air before Toothless pitched forward and he was thrown across the sand.
Hiccup hadn't even stumbled to his feet before he was being butted and nuzzled by the concerned, cooing dragon.
"I'm alrig- I'm okay, bud. But why did-?"
He looked back at the boulder they'd soared from, then down at the tracks in the sand that showed where Toothless had crashed. It was a good distance and they hadn't hit hard, so why had the Nightfury crashed?
"Oh, oh I threw you off balance!"
Toothless still warbled his concern and nudged at his hand, but Hiccup couldn't keep the smile off his face. He gave the dragon's head a hug and a scratch to assure him that all was forgiven.
"Carrying me is probably a bit ambitious for your size, anyway. Don't worry, we can try it again later…"
'Later' was that evening, after Toothless helped haul the clay to the longboat, and every evening thereafter. It was because of all their time on the beach that they spotted trader Johann's boat soon enough for Hiccup to flag him down. The man was, understandably, not too keen on getting stranded in the straits again and eager to move on, so Hiccup gathered his goods without delay while Toothless hid in the trees. The dragon scales and bones that he collected weren't worth much; his village hunted dragons, after all, but he only had to give a chip or two of the Nightfury eggshell to get whatever he wanted.
Most of it was winter gear that he desperately needed- a tall pair of boots, winter furs treated for water resistance, and a heavy, dark brown woven cloak that enveloped his slight frame- but he also picked out more paper and a few more tools now that he wouldn't have to drag them to a new camp every day. Most prized, however, was a small oil lamp, oil and spare wicks for it, and leather. In case he needed to mend or make new clothing, of course, but mostly because his tentative gliding flights with Toothless had given him an idea he couldn't shake.
He wasn't sure that it had ever been done, or how he was going to go about it, but if the turn of the weather and Johann's dire warnings of a fierce and early winter were anything to go by, he may just have a fair bit of time to figure it out by the light of his oil lamp, while the first blizzard of the season entombed him in his shelter.
See how I didn't drop a Rise of the Guardians salute even though I personified the seasons (which MSotM started, by the way!)? That is self control *high fives self*
Do you ever think about how these dragons catch food? I mean, sure they can fly and spit fire, but they're also brightly colored and have ridiculous dentition. The Zippleback's teeth really do remind me of filter feeders… Maybe their teeth will look even more like baleen in a couple thousand more years. I can see Furys and Gronkles blasting the water and scooping up stunned fish (though lets be real, a Fury could catch whatever it wanted). Maybe Nightmares land on top of a school and dive after them seabird style. Oh, I like that- their tails are even the right shape! Terrors could probably scavenge the beaches and make the occasional catch in the shallows. Nadders, tho. Idk. Maybe that's why they can do something so odd as throwing their spikes, though you'd think that'd be an expensive hunting method…
Also, I apologize for not replying to each of my reviews individually. My author's notes are long as it is though, guys, especially proportionately speaking. But I do read and enjoy all of your comments- and if there are questions after the story is done we'll see about a q&a at the end, yes? Now, bust out Test Drive because we are logging some flight time in the next chapter!
Quote is from a good ol' Shakespearean sonnet. He meant to flatter his target, but I love it for its broad applicability. Have you ever seen something amazing- a city lit up at night, an old warbird make a low pass at and airshow, the ISS fly over in silence, falcons winging past skyscrapers in the heart of a city- and been thunderstruck but just… lacked the tongue to praise?